The Shimmering Glass
by sponsormusings
Summary: One day, a speck of dust-like ice landed in the eye of a selfless young man, and his heart was overtaken by hate and rage and fear. But it was the wrong heart to overtake, because it was loved just as selflessly, by a girl who would not let him go. An Everlark interpretation of Hans Christian Andersen's 'The Snow Queen', and a submission for the THG Fairy Tale Challenge.
1. The Golden Sunset

_In a land that already exists, but in a place that has yet to come to fruition, lived a man. An evil man, with skin as brittle as aged, yellowed paper and hair as white as snow. A leader of men, who wished to change the course of history, and realign those who rebelled against his vision._

Down silver panelled hallways, to rooms filled with artificial light and tubes brimming with liquid the colour of rainbows, the man stood and watched as long slivers were injected into skin. Wrists strained and pulled against restraints as the colourful liquid fed into the captives' veins, until blood welled under skin and dripped onto pristine white tiles. And as he watched, he waited patiently, waited for the moaning to end, the thrashing to subside.

Eventually the liquid achieved its aim, and while the bruises faded, and the cuts healed, the subject was irrevocably changed. No longer was the person a rebel, someone who spoke against this leader. Now, they were submissive and tolerant, a perfect specimen. The man with hair as white as snow was pleased.

Time passed, and as time passed, incidents began to occur. Those who were changed grew mean, grew hateful, saw nothing but evil and could do nought but bad deeds. And in an attempt to prevent this happening further, the leader demanded more of the rainbow liquid to be made to 'fix' them, and in machines it was mixed and cured and spun until it shimmered like liquid sunlight on ice.

But the unexpected can happen, and on one unassuming day, the shimmering liquid became like glass. In wonder at this mystery, it was carried in delicate hands to be provided to the leader, but in haste was dropped, shattering and splintering into hundreds of millions of pieces. They were like shiny pieces of ice, as small as the smallest piece of dust.

The splinters carried over the wind, to the edges of the land. For most of the year, they lay dormant, unhindered by the wind, or the air, or the shuffling of feet. But in winter, as the lakes froze over and snow covered the fields, the pieces would dance to life, scattering through the air, spinning through the streets until they embedded themselves in the eye of unsuspecting victims.

They knew nothing different, only knew a blackness beginning to coat their heart and dim their view of the world. Gone was the richness and fulfilment in their life, and in its place hatred and a life empty of love.

The leader ignored this change in his people, as his heart was already darker than anyone else's, but elected to no longer use the shimmering liquid, instead choosing to punish or eradicate those against him by other means.

As years passed, and the son of his son took his place as leader of this country, many forgot about the tale of the shimmering glass. But the specks still appeared, still manifested itself every year as winter took hold, changing those in whose eyes they became embedded.

Until one day, a speck of dust-like ice landed in the eye of a selfless young man, and his heart was overtaken by hate and rage and fear. But it was the wrong heart to overtake, because it was loved just as selflessly, by a girl who would not let him go.

* * *

Katniss Everdeen opened the window, breathing in the cool afternoon air, watching as the sun slowly began its' descent towards the ridges of the mountains. She'd had to rush, quickly put away the game she'd already cleaned and prepared for the evening meal. But she was there before him, at least, and he would be along soon. It was their favourite time of day, and they always shared it together.

Humming under her breath, she leaned on the lower sill, fingers digging into the cool soil in the window box, studying the buds just beginning to form. The primroses had always been her mothers' favourite, and she knew her grandparents had planted them many years ago, even before she'd been born. They'd flowered, and flourished, every spring since then. Even when not in bloom, the thought of them always made Katniss think of spring, of family, of love. Of Peeta.

The shutters on the window across from her flew open, slamming against the wood work. His blonde hair was dishevelled, his face pink from exertion. "Sorry, Katniss," he apologised. "I had to close up the bakery. Aaran is sick, and father has been working on a wedding cake all day. I didn't want to take his attention away from that."

Katniss shrugged, flipping her braid over her shoulder. "It's fine," she replied. "You made it in time anyway. It's only just about to go down now." She tipped her head towards the low-lying sun, and his gaze followed hers. They watched in silence, both half propped out of their respective window, heads butting, as they watched the orange orb begin to dip below the top of the mountain, its rays shimmering in ribbons of gold and yellow and bronze across the deepening blue of the sky.

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark had been neighbours for as long as they could remember. While the Mellarks owned the bakery that served most of the inhabitants of District 12, the Everdeens ran the apothecary, inherited when Alice Everdeens' parents had unexpectedly passed away 11 years before.

As a small child, Katniss had known many in the Merchant quarter had frowned upon James Everdeen, and the fact that a 'Seamer' was helping to run the apothecary. But none could deny the healing works administered successfully by Alice, assisted by the plant life they knew James was responsible for gathering, and as time moved on, acceptance by the Merchants of the small family grew.

But even during those hard times, when people had turned their noses at them in the street and others had stubbornly refused their healing assistance, Katniss had always had a confidant in the small blond haired boy from next door. They'd grown up, their bedroom windows across from each other, close enough that if they stood on the sill and took a large step, they would be in the others room. Times played with wooden soldiers, drawing lessons that Katniss failed dismally at, Katniss teaching Peeta how to nock and aim an arrow at a target through both their windows and onto the back wall of her bedroom. They had grown up together, as close as two friends could be. And the one thing they always shared was the setting of the sun, every afternoon, through their windows.

_In the last year, they had also begun sharing a love for the other, though it was something both kept as a closely guarded secret, for fear of scaring the other. Peeta was used to keeping this secret - he'd held it closely to him for a long time already. It had just taken Katniss quite a bit longer to catch up._

As the final light disappeared, and the sky began to shift into an inky black, both pulled themselves back into their bedrooms. Katniss felt herself blush as she watched Peeta study her, his blue eyes staring at her intently. It was times like these she wondered if he could ever feel same as she did, if he would ever dream of her at night as she dreamt of him. Peeta cursed himself for making her uncomfortable, knowing that he needed to stop staring at her so much. Not that he could help it. He sometimes wished she felt the same way he did, wished she dreamt of him at night the way he dreamt of her.

"Same time tomorrow?" he said softly. She nodded.

"Same time tomorrow."

And so spring continued, as did summer and fall. Their days were nothing other than ordinary, though as time passed, the feelings they felt for the other strengthened, deepened. Both wondered how much longer they could go on, knowing how they felt, and not knowing if the other felt the same.

* * *

The first cool winds of winter began to swirl through the streets, windows and doors closed to the wintry fingers that wound themselves around frail bones and shivering limbs. Katniss climbed into bed with her sister, pulling the cover up to Prim's chin, wrapping an arm across her chest.

"Ok, Little Duck, what story do you want to hear tonight?" Katniss asked softly.

"Tell me about the queen and the snowflakes," Prim said sleepily, snuggling into her sisters' warmth.

"Really? On a cool night like tonight? You don't wish for a story of District 4, or one of a princess from a long time ago?" Katniss hated the story, hated how her belly felt like it was coated in ice every time she told it, which, as for some reason it was one of Prim's favourites, inevitably happened every winter.

"Yes. I like the snowflakes, they're pretty."

So Katniss acquiesced, and told the story of the snowflakes. It was one that her mother had told her as a child, that her mother had told her, and her mother before that. Katniss knew once upon a time, it had been told as a warning to children not to stay out late during winter, to prevent the many deaths that occurred as a result of hypothermia, or simply freezing to death. But as years passed, it became simple and whimsical, and was now more a bedtime story than a warning tale for survival.

"_Once upon a time, there lived a woman, a woman whose heart was as bitter as the frost that coated the air and as cold as the snowflakes that fell. After being expelled from the palace she had lived in with her father, she lived alone in a fortress made of ice, spears of icicles reaching to the sky, with smooth, slippery pathways the colour of frozen lakes. The snowflakes that surrounded her felt an affinity with the woman, took pleasure in the coldness that emanated from her, and soon she became their Queen. They did as she asked – protected her from harm, took retribution against those who tried, followed through on any and all of her requests._

_Despite her bitterness, she was beautiful, this Queen born from snow, with hair as pale as early morning sunlight, and skin that glimmered like crystal. But regardless of her beauty, she was lonely, for she was estranged from her family and had no mate. And so every winter, with the help of her snowflakes, she would leave her fortress of ice to find someone to keep her company, to be her friend, to perhaps lie with her if they were to her liking. These companions she would always find as the sun ended the day and the moon began the night, and they were always those who had a heart as cold as hers._

_And there they would disappear, and live with her forever."_

Katniss looked down at Prim, her eyes now closed, and mouth slightly open as she softly snored. Extracting herself from Prim's grasp, Katniss pulled herself out of the bed, and quickly moved across the hall to her own room, wrapping her own comforter warmly around her, her teeth chattering almost involuntarily. She still had no idea how Prim could sleep after hearing that story. It had never done anything but unsettle her, made her cold down to her bones as she thought of someone simply disappearing to this wintry fortress. Sometimes she wondered if the story was actually _true_, but as no-one else thought so, she simply brushed off her childish thoughts. But she couldn't help the ache that settled around her heart when she thought of it.

She closed her eyes and wished for spring.

* * *

Katniss studied the small, meticulously wrapped box that sat on the edge of her windowsill, then looked up at the grinning face that was across from her. "Peeta, what is this?"

"It's a present, Katniss," he replied, his grin growing wider by the moment. "For Christmas."

Her brows narrowed, confused. "What is…what is Christmas?" she asked hesitantly.

As if spurred by her question, he dusted off the layer of snow on his windowsill and hopped up, a slim leather book clutched in his hand; he stepped across onto the edge of her window. Dropping to the floor, he moved over to the worn rug in the centre of her room and plopped down cross-legged, his winter jacket falling open, revealing the blue sweater he wore underneath. He waved her over. "Sit with me, and I'll show you." She slowly lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs in front of her. He opened the book, laying it on the ground between them. Its pages were yellow; its edges tattered and bent. "I found this last week, in an old trunk that belonged to my grandmother. It's from before the Dark Days, Katniss," he said softly, as if worried someone would hear them.

She raised an eyebrow, suitably impressed. "Wow. What does it say?"

He turned it so she could see the words, see the pictures. And listened as he told her a story about one day a year, where people gave each other gifts and shared times together, warming themselves by fires and singing songs and drinking something called Eggnog. And it seemed so foreign to her, so alien, that it was hard to imagine that once, long ago, it had actually happened. She wondered if it just disappeared, along with everything else from before the Dark Days. Or if it had slowly stopped happening before then, before the world as it was ended, and it became something different.

"So," Peeta finished, breaking her out of her reverie, "I thought how wonderful it sounded, and I wanted to get you something. A present."

"But why? We're friends, Peeta, but we don't need to buy each other gifts. It's not even my birthday." She glanced up at him, felt her heart drop at the way he was looking at her. With eyes so blue, and warm and friendly and…just _staring at her_.

He took a deep breath, and bit his lip. "You have no idea, do you?" he said gently.

"No idea about what?" she whispered.

"The effect you can have," Peeta replied, just as softly.

"I d-don't know what y-you mean," she stammered. She froze as his hand reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair from her braid behind her ear.

"I wanted to give you a gift, Katniss, to show you how much you mean to me. Open it once I've gone downstairs for dinner, after we've watched the sunset." He dropped his hand, grasping hers in his and dragging her to her feet. He left the book on the ground as they moved back to the window, and then climbed up onto the sill. He crouched, turning back towards her, his eyes shy. Before she could think, and before he could second guess himself, he leant forward pressing his lips softly to her cheek; then leapt nimbly from her sill to his. He leant back out, glancing over at Katniss to see her standing there still, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. He blushed, then smiled, and tipped his head towards the sun. But she didn't look at it, couldn't look at it. She was too busy watching Peeta watch the sun go down, watching how _content_ he looked. How _wonderful_ he looked.

And because she was too busy looking at him, too busy wondering if maybe, _just maybe_ he felt the same way she felt, she didn't notice the woman at the edge of the woods, her hair a cloud of spun sugar, her smile beautiful and her eyes beckoning.

* * *

The winter winds everyone feared blew through the town the following day. It caused branches to fall, windows to crack, and the onset of a contagious illness that infected both child and adult alike. People became irritable, became mad, became frustrated and had the district longing for a summer that felt light years away.

It was a week later that Katniss waited at her windowsill, her heart heavy as the sun sunk below the ridges, dropping the sky into darkness. A darkness as dark as the shutters that remained closed across from her. She ran her fingers across the pin that was attached to the lapel of her jacket, the pin Peeta had gifted to her. She'd asked him about it the day after she had opened it, and he'd simply blushed, saying that as well as the book, the pin had been his grandmothers, and he'd immediately thought of her when he'd seen the representation of a bird in mid-flight. Katniss had told him it was beautiful, that she loved it, and the blush that had formed on his cheeks had been so sweet she had still been thinking of it for days afterwards. They hadn't mentioned the kiss, had danced around it like fallen leaves whipped up by the wind.

Now he wasn't even here. He'd never come. He _never_ missed a sunset, not even when he was ill.

Leaning out of her window slightly, she trained her ear toward his room as she heard a noise, wondering if he had fallen asleep, or was sick, or-

Her thoughts cut off abruptly as the shutters across from her slammed open. Peeta stood there, hands gripping the sill, his breathing heavy. Sweat dripped down his forehead, caused his shirt to stick wetly to his chest.

"Peeta, are you ok? Are you alright? You missed the sunset!" She couldn't help but exclaim. Then he glared up at her, and she visibly shrunk back. _This wasn't Peeta. Who was this? What was happening? _"P-Peeta?" she whispered hesitantly.

"What?" he snarled, fingers tensing against the woodwork. "So boo fucking hoo, I missed sunset." Her head jerked back in surprise at his voice. It was bitter and hard, sharp and lifeless. Like his eyes. _What had happened to his eyes? _They were still the blue she'd always known them to be, but they were glacial, icy. Cold.

"What's wrong?" She demanded, though she couldn't hide the quiver in her voice.

"What's wrong? Like you care," he snapped. His chest heaved, his lip curled. His hair stood on end, the blond waves a dishevelled mess, as if he'd been ripping and tearing at it for hours.

"Of course I do! Peeta what's going on?" She leant forward, as if to reach out to him. She blinked as he suddenly reached forward through both their windows, yanking on her braid, not playfully, but hard, strands ripping from her scalp, and she let out a yelp of pain. "I don't understand," she mumbled, trying desperately to dislodge the lump in her throat, to will back the tears that were forming in her eyes.

"Of course you don't," Peeta hissed. He pulled on her hair again, drawing her a little closer so that their noses were almost touching. "Katniss 'too good for anyone and everything' Everdeen. Well, I don't care anymore. I _hate_ you, Katniss Everdeen. If I never see you for as long as I live, it will be too soon. You and your stupid hunting, and your stupid braids," he yanked on it again for good measure, "And your stupid sunsets and your stupid singing. And your _stupid fucking roses_." He let go of her hair and she stumbled back, almost falling to the floor of her room, and watched as he reached across into her window box, tearing at the dirt, ripping the small rosebushes out by their roots, throwing them to the ground below. Dirt swirled up into their eyes, into their hair, though neither noticed or cared. Katniss, because her heart was breaking at whatever was happening to her best friend.

Peeta, because nothing mattered anymore.

With one final swipe at the dirt, he pulled himself back into his room and stared at her. His jaw flexed and shifted from how tightly he was clenching it. "Look at your roses now, you mutt," he spat. He clasped a hand on the edge of each shutter, clutching them so tightly the knuckles were white, and yanked them closed.

She stood staring at a closed set of shutters until seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, and the sunset became a distant memory.

* * *

The shutters remained closed to her. As the week went on, she would wait patiently, watching the sun go down alone. She would hear sounds of someone moving about angrily in his room, the occasional thud, or curse. But Peeta had cut himself off from her, from everyone. And she had no idea why.

Lying on her bed, fingers tightly woven around the pin she clutched in her hand, she remembered a winter many years ago. It had been cold, and brittle, and not even the pretty dusting of snow covering eaves could snap anyone out of their melancholy. Especially Mrs Mellark.

Katniss could never remember her being particularly friendly, or warm, but at one stage in her life, Katniss could remember Delia Mellark being at the very least _nice_. Until that winter. And after that winter, she'd changed. A bitterness had emanated from her towards everyone – but especially Peeta. Nothing her youngest son did or said was ever right, and by proxy, neither did Katniss. And now Katniss' heart lay heavy, for she was terrified that whatever illness befell his mother had also infected Peeta.

But still, she waited for him to come back, would wait at the window and listen to him as he stomped around his room. Would listen late into the night as he alternated between yelling and mumbling to himself in heated whispers. And wished, for the first time in her life, that their homes were not as close as they were.

Until one sunset, his room was quiet, was still.

And the only sound she heard was the demanding call of his name, over and over again, by his mother.

* * *

Katniss curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs, fingers digging into her skin. It didn't matter how many times she heard the whispers around town, how many times they repeated the same words – they still hadn't sunk in.

_He must have wandered into the woods._

_They found his jacket by the river._

_He hadn't been right, hadn't been the same._

_Became just like his mother, that one. I knew it would happen._

She remembered the red-rimmed eyes of Mr Mellark, the way his shoulders hunched like the gnarled roots of a tree, the way his hands shook uncontrollably as he told her, while his wife remained impassive, her eyes boring through Katniss as though she was invisible. She'd sat, immobile in shock, as Prim sobbed beside her, as her parents reached out to comfort her. But she couldn't think, or feel. All she could hear was Peeta's fathers' words tumbling in her head, rolling over and over each other until they became a meaningless blur.

_I'm so sorry to tell you this._

_He's been missing for 3 days._

_They've determined that he drowned, Katniss._

Her heart slammed into her throat as she thought about it, as she tried to wrap her mind around what they had told her. Her arms trembled as she thought about a life without the friend who had been by her side almost her entire life. A lone tear tracked down her cheek as she realised she'd never told him how he felt. How much she hadn't realised she _had _felt until he was gone. Peeta Mellark had been _it_ for her, and now it was nothing but a distant dream that would never come true.

Tears dampened her pillow as they flowed freely. She didn't jolt as she felt Prim lay beside her, as she began to stroke her hair, murmuring empty words of comfort. She closed her eyes, and remembered all the times she imagined Peeta's fingers trailing through her hair, whispering against the nape of her neck. Imagined his lips brushing against her cheek as he'd done so just a few short weeks ago.

"It's ok, Katniss," Prim said softly. "I'm sure he's in a better place now."

Katniss reached up to wipe at the tears sliding down her cheek. "How can you say that?" She muttered desperately. "What happens when we die, Prim? Where do we go? How do you know he's in a better place?" Her breath caught as she forced her next words out. "Why did he have to go, and leave me here?" She turned her face up to look at Prim, her eyes searching. But the pretty cornflower blue irises that looked back at her gave no answer. They showed her compassion and sadness, yes. Answers? As Katniss turned back to the wall, closing her eyes, she realised answers were something she may never receive.

* * *

They held a funeral two days later, an empty casket lowered into ground hard packed and frozen. Katniss stood, her mother and Prim on either side of her, James Everdeen standing behind them, his arms wrapped around the shoulders of his wife and children. Through her grief she could see Delly Cartwright on the other side of the gaping hole - clutching desperately to the hand of Madge Undersee - low, keening sobs escaping from her. Madge stood straight and still, and if Katniss hadn't known how composed the Mayor's daughter was under any situation, she would think her unaffected. But the shaking of the hand that covered Delly's said more than words could.

Snow fell gently, the snowflakes swirling about them merrily, making a mockery of the grief that permeated the air. The frigid wind curled around them, sneaking under collars and threading through hair.

Katniss felt none of it, saw none of it. Heard nought of the words spoken, nor the sobs, or the query directed to her, asking if she wished to speak. Didn't see the glances full of sympathy that her blank look and unresponsiveness received.

She glanced blindly around the small cemetery as she watched people began to depart. She watched as Mr Mellark, and Peeta's brothers, glanced one more time towards the final resting place for a body that didn't exist, before turning towards the centre of town, their heads and shoulders bowed. Mrs Mellark was already a good 50 yards in front of them, her step determined and unhindered.

She shrugged off the hands of her parents as they tried to turn her away, silently begging for them to leave her be. She could sense their internal debate, wanting to comfort her, to take her home, but to also allow her to grieve, to come to terms with what had happened. So they left her, sitting on the icy ground, her body slowly numbing from the cold, as she looked down at the simple casket. She clutched a handful of roses from home, trying to block out the last memory she had of Peeta with her window box, instead remembering the times Peeta had bowed his head towards the blooms, taking in their sweet scent, a smile on his face as he plucked one from its stem and handed it to her.

_Why hadn't she told him? Why had she left it, so that he would never know how she felt? Why had she left it until it was too late?_

Tears froze on her cheeks, shining like diamonds in the icy sunlight. She wondered how people survived this, knowing they would never see someone again. How did her mother ever overcome the grief of her own parents' death? How did anyone ever recover from someone disappearing from their life? How-

Her heart leapt into her throat, her heart racing, pounding, her pulse skittering beneath her skin.

_Disappeared. Almost into thin air…_

_Why did people just assume Peeta was dead?_

She scrambled to her feet, almost carelessly throwing the flowers on top of the casket, slipping and skidding on ice-slicked pathways towards her home. Pulling on the front door, she ignored the concerned calls from her family, rushing to her room, and frantically scanning the slim volumes she had on her shelf. She didn't have many, but those she did, she held dear. Her father's plant book from when he was young, a slim volume of poetry that had been her mother's….the book Peeta had so carelessly left here only a few weeks before. But it was none of those she sought. It was the book of her great-grandmothers stories. She knew the story inside out and back to front, could recite it in her sleep. But she needed to read it, needed the words to form in front of her eyes to make it real.

And as Katniss' heart beat out of time, her finger traced across the page, following the words she echoed in her head:

"_And so every winter, with the help of her snowflakes, she would leave her fortress of ice to find people to keep her company, to be her friend, to perhaps lie with her. These companions she would always find as the sun ended the day and the moon began the night, and they were always those who had a heart as cold as hers._

___And there they would disappear, and live with her forever."_

Recognition set in, settling across her shoulders. She wondered why she hadn't realised it earlier. Without a shadow of a doubt, she knew.

_It was real._

She knew Peeta was alive. And she had to bring him home.

* * *

**A/N - With many thanks to Jeeno2, MalTease, Porchwood/Mejhiren and Salanderjade for their feedback and support.**


	2. The Silver Sleigh

Wrapping his coat tighter around his body, Peeta Mellark couldn't stop the smile from creeping across his face. It didn't matter that he was freezing, that his fingers were numb, that he still had one more delivery to make before he could go home. All that mattered was tonight, he was going to go home, fling open the shutters of his window and, after watching the sun go down, tell Katniss Everdeen that he loved her.

It both terrified him and filled him with a level of happiness he'd never experienced.

He still remembered the feel of her hair through his fingers, the softness of her cheek under his lips after he'd given her his gift. He'd lain awake for hours that night, wishing he'd thought to meld his lips to hers, wishing he'd stopped to watch the sunset from _her_ window. But he'd allowed his nerves to get the better of him, moving back to the security of his own room and their usual routine.

He'd thought to ask her if she knew the blonde woman standing at the edge of the woods, but her smile as she said good night distracted him, and he'd not thought of the stranger until many days later.

Hurrying his step, he made his way into Cartwrights Shoes, dropped off their delivery, and quickly turned back to home. Now that he'd finally made the decision to put his worries aside, and just to _tell_ her, he couldn't wait to be there. Couldn't wait to take her hands in his, stare into those silver eyes and tell her that he'd loved her since he was 5 years old. Had loved her since the first time she'd opened her window shutters and he'd heard her sing…..

_He peered around the edge of his window, staring at the girl in the red dress, her hair in two long plaits that trailed over her shoulders. She was leaning out of her window, staring off into the distance, softly singing to herself. He liked her voice; it was pretty, and it sounded like he thought cookies would if they talked. He leant on the edge of the shutter more, trying to hear her better, and his eyes widened as he leant on it too much, and it swung open; she was going to see him! She glanced over, her cheeks slowly becoming the same shade as her dress. She stopped singing._

"_Hello," he said. He leant out of his own window, looking in the direction she had, noting the final rays of the sun. "Oh, I like the sunset."_

"_Me too," she replied quietly._

"_You're my new neighbour. My daddy pointed at you at school today."_

_She nodded._

"_Is your name Katniss?" He asked, and she nodded again. "I'm Peeta. Want to be friends?"_

"_Ok." He'd smiled at her, and she'd smiled at him back._

_Even then, his little heart knew there would never be anyone else._

He shook his head, smiling to himself as he remembered that day. It was one of the clearest memories of his life, the day he'd met Katniss Everdeen. They'd been each other's neighbour, friend, confidant, and comforter. _And, _he hoped_, much more._

A wild swirl of wind surrounded him, the length of his scarf flying behind him, its frayed green edges fluttering in the breeze. He shifted, yanking on the length to pull it back around his neck, when the wind whipped back into his face, blowing the freezing ice and snow into his mouth, his eyes, down his collar. Shaking his head, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear them.

He couldn't.

Panic rose in his throat as his vision blurred, and greyed, and darkened. He could still see, but a film coated his eyes, and he was terrified, couldn't understand what was happening to him, why his world was now seen through a haze.

Stumbling towards the bakery with the darkened world around him, he reached out, letting his hand guide him home. If he could just get there, he could wash his face; rid it of the frozen mass that was covering his eyes. Sweat dripped down his back, trailed rivulets down the skin despite the chill in the air. His legs ached, his arms burned, his head raged.

Shoving through the back door of the bakery, he rushed upstairs into the bathroom, twisting the copper taps until water swirled into the porcelain basin. He splashed water into his face once, twice, three times, but it wasn't doing anything, wasn't changing his vision, or easing the panic that flowed through his veins.

Stalking into his bedroom, he flung off his jacket and scarf, pulled his sweater over his head. His body shuddered; sweat broke out and pooled at the base of his spine, pearled on his forehead. His heart thudded, his brain felt like it was ready to explode into a thousand pieces. Dropping to the floor, he curled into a ball, rocking himself backwards and forwards as his body burned from the inside out.

_Though he did not know it, a speck from the long-forgotten shimmering glass had found its way into his eye, brought to life by the winter wind, embedding itself so deep that nothing could remove it. It broke in two, and the larger of the pieces drifted through his body, looking for and searching for and finally finding his heart. _

Hate and fire and fury licked at his skin, burned his blood, and wormed its way into his heart. As his eyes closed, and his breathing laboured, the thoughts he'd had not twenty minutes before disappeared, to be replaced by something he never, ever thought he'd feel.

Through his haze, he could hear Katniss at her window, shuffling, shifting, scrabbling at the dormant roses in the window box. His lip curled, and he snarled, his blue eyes flashing coldly. _What the hell was the stupid mutt doing out there?_

Dragging himself to his feet, oblivious to the sweat dripping from his body and wild look in his eyes, he slammed the shutters open, glaring across at Katniss as she stood, surprise and shock on her face, just inside her window. She opened her mouth, her words tumbling over each other.

"Peeta, are you ok? Are you alright? You missed the sunset!" Then he watched as she pulled herself back. "P-Peeta?"

He couldn't help the words that fell from his lips as his fingers clenched the window sill. "What? So boo fucking hoo, I missed sunset."

"What's wrong?" He could hear the quiver in her voice, delighted in it, revelled in it.

"What's wrong? Like you care."

"Of course I do! Peeta what's going on?" He saw her lean forward, and his body moved without a thought. He reached towards her, yanking on her braid, _hard_. _He wanted her to feel pain._ "I don't understand," she was mumbling, and he could see the tears in her eyes. Maybe, once upon a time, that would have affected him. Not anymore.

"Of course you don't," Peeta hissed. He pulled on her hair again, so he was close enough to practically _feel_ the shock in her eyes. "Katniss 'too good for anyone and everything' Everdeen. Well, I don't care anymore. I _hate_ you, Katniss Everdeen. If I never see you for as long as I live, it will be too soon. You and your stupid hunting, and your stupid braids. And your stupid sunsets and your stupid singing. And your _stupid fucking roses_." He let go of her hair and reached across into her window box, tearing at the dirt, ripping the small rosebushes out by their roots, throwing them to the ground. He didn't care anymore, didn't care about the roses, didn't care about her, didn't care about _anything._

Finally, they were all gone, ripped and torn to shreds, their remnants littering the ground below. His jaw flexed and shifted from how tightly he was clenching it. "Look at your roses now, you mutt," he spat. Her eyes widened in hurt, but it didn't bother him. He clasped a hand on the edge of each shutter, clutching them so tightly his knuckles were white, and yanked them closed.

Dragging himself over to his bed, he stripped off his shirt and threw himself onto the covers. And exhausted, fell asleep, his dreams a sea of black and a woman in white.

* * *

Time no longer existed. Days were a blur of shapes, of sounds, of images that never became clear. Everything that used to make his heart sing now filled him with fury, made the anger burn in his veins until he swore they were on fire.

He worked in the bakery, but rarely spoke. He scowled, and grumbled, and muttered, and avoided the worried and sympathetic glances of his father. He snapped at his brothers, fought with them until they arrived at noses that were bloody and knuckles that were torn. The only person he barely tolerated was his mother, and even then it was a battle of who uttered the harshest insults.

The nights he spent locked in his room, cutting himself off from the world. He would hear Katniss tentatively open her shutters, fingers tapping on her windowsill. He would wrap his arms around his head, blocking out the sounds she made, the soft sighs and the eventual squeak of the shutters as they closed again. He would think of her, of how awful and ugly and disgusting she was. _She'd led him on for so long, made him wonder if she loved him in return. Had she ever thought of him as even a friend?_

With a snarl he would leap to his feet, crushing knick-knacks from when he was a child, tearing apart pictures he'd lovingly sketched – of the bakery, of the woods, of the town square, _of her_. He would curse, and mutter and growl until all the vile thoughts in his head were spent, then fall lifelessly to the floor, where he would sleep, then wake up and start the entire process again.

Until one afternoon he moved from his room, inexplicably drawn to the woods.

His shoes slipped on the icy trail as he made his way to the edge of the meadow, towards the woods. His fingers twitched, clutching at the material of his pants as he walked. He didn't know where he was going, or why, he only knew that wherever it was, he was _meant_ to be there. And as his gaze lifted, he saw the gleaming silver sleigh that sat in the middle of the field, as if waiting for him.

Reaching it, Peeta lifted a hand, trailing it down the sleighs surface. It was cool, smooth as glass and patterned with snowflakes, some as big as his fist, others as small as the head of a pin.

Pulling his jacket closer to his body – despite the sweat that seemed to permanently pearl on his brow and trickle down his back, he still shivered uncontrollably from the cold - and tucking his scarf into his collar, he wandered around the sleigh, studying it from all angles.

"So you like my sleigh, do you?" The voice spoke from behind him, low, sultry and throaty. He whirled, his temper already beginning to rise, before he realised it was _her_, the woman from the woods_. _She was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his life. Pale, icy blonde hair fluttered around her face in waves, the length travelling to the line of her hips. Her blue eyes danced, her rosy pink lips pursed in a secretive smile. She was shrouded in a silvery white fur coat that dusted the tips of her toes and hid the rest of her body within its warmth.

"It's fine," he acquiesced with a shrug.

"Fine?" she laughed, a laugh that sent both a chill and a shiver down his spine. She tapped a long, silver-tipped fingernail against her lips. "I'm sure you can do better than that, Mr Mellark."

"How do you know my name?" he demanded sharply, his mouth twisting in a parody of surprise.

She advanced on him, almost gliding across the snowy surface. She placed her hand on his chest, fingers trailing up and along the jacket until her palm was resting against his cheek. Her fingers were icy cool. "I know _everything_ about you," she whispered, leaning forward and resting her lips against his ear. "Absolutely everything."

His body shuddered as her breath danced across his ear, and he couldn't help the way his hands instinctively reached for her, his fingers gripping at the soft white fur that surrounded her. He glanced down at the high, firm breasts showcased by the deep V of her dress, revealed by the shifting of her coat. She pulled back and smiled, a slow cunning smile that didn't extend to her eyes, and she slicked her tongue slowly across her bottom lip. "Do you wish to come with me, Peeta?" she whispered seductively, allowing her eyes to travel, unashamedly, down the length of his body.

"Yes," he replied without a second thought.

She nodded slyly. "Yes, that's what I wanted to hear." Pulling him back towards her, she placed both of her hands on either side of his face, clutching his jaw in her palms. The tips of her fingers slid into his hair, the nails tracing delicately against his skin. She pressed her lips to his hungrily, mouth slanting over his, teasing his mouth open with her tongue. The groan that murmured in the back of his throat pleased her, and she pulled away, studying his flushed cheeks.

"How do you feel now, Peeta?" She whispered, trailing her fingertips across the collar of his shirt.

"Hot," he mumbled, pupils dilated and breath heavy. _Hot, yes, but his veins had iced over, blood had stopped pumping. His skin had become cold, like the very air they breathed. _Her fingers dusted across the back of his hand, and he vaguely noticed she didn't feel as cold any more.

"Good." Her hands trailed down to his wrists, tugging on the sleeves of his jacket. "I don't think you'll need this anymore, do you?" He shook his head, allowing her to slip it from his shoulders. The icy beauty threw the jacket into the sleigh with the flick of her wrist, then stared back at him. Her gaze didn't make him uncomfortable, or wary. He took pleasure in it, enjoyed the way she stared at him, and the way he didn't stop himself from staring back. _Katniss had never stared at him so openly, so longingly_. _The mutt…._

She stepped forward, arms hanging loosely by her side. "I'm going to kiss you again before we go, Peeta," she told him, and he nodded, any words he may have had frozen in his throat. He allowed her to rest her hands on his hips, grasping them tightly, and pulled him towards her until their bodies slid against each other sinuously. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, gazing up at him with eyes that would have stopped the blood of any man. And as their lips melded, as her tongue began to tangle furiously with his, the frozen heart of a young man was closed off from love, from hope. From Katniss.

_Though for Peeta, the name Katniss had ceased to exist._

* * *

And so the silver sleigh made its way into the woods, past the river. The woman carelessly threw Peeta's jacket onto its bank, knowing it was the easiest way for his friends and family to give him up for dead.

He paid no attention, for he no longer needed or cared for the comfort of warmth.

The sleigh seemed to move across the land at a speed he could not comprehend, hurtling past rugged mountains, their snowy peaks towering into the sky. They slid across rivers frozen to an icy white, raised their eyes to the sky as glittering snowflakes danced around them. Trees heavy laden with snow guided their way, lining pathways hewn into cliff sides.

Their ride came to an end as the sleigh circled around a massive snow-laden fir. If Peeta had cared, this mouth would have dropped open at the sight in front of him. It rose, foot upon foot upon foot into the air, turrets and towers reaching up to the clouds. Shades of blue, of white, the palest green and the softest of purple swirled together across every surface, until the entire fortress seemed to shimmer and shiver in the cool winds.

"Welcome home, Peeta," The woman said loftily as the sleigh came to a stop. The snowflakes that had been dancing around them calmed, settling in her tumbled hair, along the length of her coat, falling softly onto her cheeks. They had been waiting for her, had bided their time for her return to them.

Peeta shrugged, nonplussed, his eyes scanning the landscape disinterestedly. He clenched his jaw, scuffed his feet into the ground. _He just wanted to be alone, wanted to tear at his hair until he drew blood._

The cold, stubborn woman wasn't deterred by his ambivalence. He was exactly what she had been looking for.

_But he wasn't. As time passed – though Peeta could not tell if it was days, weeks or years – the anger that had manifested in his heart lingered, made him lash out, act disinterested, berate her. The boy with the golden hair did not fall in line with her expectations, though her penchant for those who were heartless should have prepared her for his denial. A heart empty of love, and full of hate and fury cared for no one, not even someone as cold as her. _

_On the day he took to his quarters with a pick, tearing and hacking at the icy walls, his eyes black and his breathing stilted, she demanded her guards lead him to the frozen lake lying at the foot of the fortress. And he was left there, alone, for the icy temptress no longer wanted to consider him for a bed mate._

_And though he had no comprehension of home, no memory of his life before the moment she kissed him, she promised to give him leave from her fortress, the ability to return to his previous life, under one proviso. That he paint her the perfect shade of sunlight on white fur. And as the sun did not see these hidden woods, the sky forever a shimmering pearl grey, she did not believe she had cause to worry._

_Peeta Mellark's heart remained cold, and as he did not care for people and places he could not remember, he did not make an effort to put brush to canvas. And the Queen of the Snow smiled down at him from the highest peak of the highest tower, her blue eyes frozen and her pale hair whipped up by the wind, knowing that he would remain there forever._

* * *

**_A/N - Thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. They're very much appreciated :)_**


	3. The Wintry Path

Katniss closed the door quietly behind her in the dead of night, wincing at the slight creak as the lock slipped into place. She flipped up the collar of her jacket so it covered her neck, almost up her chin, sheltering it from the freezing night air. She'd lent her scarf to Peeta a long time ago, and he'd never returned it to her. Now…well, she was resigned to the fact that she would never see it again. _Unless she could find him_.

Hitching the leather bag she had crossed over her shoulders, Katniss made her way through town, noted the lights in the bakery blazed in the night, while everywhere else remained silent and dark. She hated knowing that Mr Mellark was in there, as heartbroken as she was, wanted somehow to ease his pain, to let him know of what she was doing, what she was planning. But she didn't want to get his hopes up, nor did she want him to stop her. She knew he'd try, just like her own family would if they knew of her plans.

She'd left a note, simple and to the point. That she was going to find Peeta, that she didn't believe him to be dead, that it didn't matter what it took; her best friend needed to be brought home. She'd anchored the note with her grandmothers' book, hoping they would understand why she felt the way she did, why she was adamant that Peeta was out there, somewhere. She knew that of anyone, Prim would understand.

Moving through the long grass of the meadow, Katniss headed for the fence line, knowing the best spot to be able to crawl under. Though she hadn't lived in the Seam for many years and food was no longer something her family _needed_ to hunt for to provide for themselves, she and her father still ventured out every week, both for the benefit of the Everdeens and others. James Everdeen had lived in the Seam for long enough, and had suffered enough lean years himself with his family, to know that those who lived there would never have enough food. It was because of that that they refused to stop hunting and would continue to provide meat to Sae in the Hob to distribute, regardless of the threat of the Capitol or animals twice their size that could easily tear them apart.

She slid under the fence she knew wasn't live, her boots scraping on the snow-packed dirt. She stilled, every noise she made amplified in the dark, waited to make sure that no-one else was awake at this time of night, and continued her movements when silence greeted her. Brushing absently at her back, she moved quietly over the snow, her footsteps light and unencumbered. She reached the tree where their bows and arrows were stored, pulling hers out of the gap in the wood, trailing her fingers down the string before she slipped it over her shoulder. And with a final glance towards the Seam, towards District 12, she turned, heading into the unknown.

* * *

She travelled slowly her first few days, venturing past the lake and into wilderness previously unexplored. She knew it was dangerous being in these parts, knowing how the Capitol liked to keep an eye on all of its citizens, and was constantly concerned that she would be caught, and dragged to the city with shiny steel buildings and people with purple hair.

But in the dead of winter and so far from the Capitol, no-one searched for her, no-one found her.

2 miles from the edge of the lake she discovered the tracks and began following them, two long, slim, continuous grooves in the snow that were certainly not from a native animal. Instinct told her the markings would lead her to where she needed to go.

Her prowess as a hunter ensured that she was able to find sustenance as she travelled, though animals were few and far between. They were smart, holed up for the winter, burrowed in their homes waiting for weather that didn't threaten to chill them to the bone. But she was able to make do, and with the added knowledge gained from her father of edible plants available in winter, she ate.

It did not abate the loneliness that befell her.

So she did what she and her father had done so many times when they'd finished hunting for the day, and had taken a moment by their lake.

She sang.

It varied, but more often than not she found her way back to the Valley Song. It made her feel the closest to her family; she could almost imagine they were there with her. It kept her from falling into an isolated depression, kept her from worrying she would be too late for Peeta. And she was so focused on her task, on the words she sang, that she didn't notice how the whole forest would still to listen to her.

The trek was long, arduous. She sank into thigh deep snow, spent more time freezing and wet than warm and dry. She was lucky enough to find shelter when she needed to – a cave miles from home, an outcropping of rocks even further away. Dilapidated wooden shacks, forgotten by both time and man, hidden deep in the woods.

She saw no one, heard nothing but the gentle sounds of winter and her own voice. She continued on her way, her body fatigued but refusing to give up. A blizzard set in, wrapping her in its frozen arms, blinding her to the path ahead. It refused to abate, the snow swirling around her until she knew no colour but white, and knew no feeling but cold. She climbed over rocks, tripped over tangled tree roots that had fought their way through the snow, her only guide a vague sense of _knowing_ where she needed to go.

Until finally, disoriented, she stumbled out of the woods onto a rocky cliff, raging seas pounding below. Falling to her knees, the damp snow immediately soaking through her pants, she glanced around her trying to catch her bearings. And her heart caught in her throat as the blizzard abruptly ceased, its raging winds and cold snowfalls petering out to a gentle breeze and a smattering of flakes. Crawling forward, pulling herself back up to her feet as she reached the rough, rocky edge, she looked down in disbelief at the dark menacing waves below, at the foamy white that topped their crests.

"You must be a long way from home," a voice behind her said, and she whirled, surprised to see the bronze haired man standing behind her, buttoned head to toe in a jacket the colour of the sea below.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "And where am I?"

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile crossing his face lazily. "You, my dear, are in District 4." Whether he ignored her initial question intentionally or not, any further thoughts fled as his words sank in.

"District 4?" She was confused, shocked. "But…but I've only been travelling for no more than three weeks. And I've come from 12, by foot no less. How did I arrive here so quickly?" His own eyes showed surprise, though he was quick and careful to mask it.

"I cannot give you that answer. Perhaps you have a story to tell first." He studied her, took in her small frame covered head to toe in snow, her lips blue and her face devoid of colour. "Come. I live not far from here. My love can feed you while you explain why you're at the edge of our cliffs."

Katniss hesitated, torn between whether to trust the beautiful stranger or not. But then he smiled again, and this time it was genuine and reached his eyes, filling them with warmth and understanding. And it reminded her so much of Peeta that she had to stop herself from keeling over in pain. She nodded, falling in to step beside him.

"I'm Katniss," she introduced finally.

"Finnick," he replied. "Welcome to my home."

* * *

The house he led her to wasn't suited to the snowy woods outside. White wood and glass, pale hardwood floors sanded until they gleamed, thick, plush carpets in shades of blue and green Katniss had never even seen, could only imagine. It looked serene, peaceful – anything except like the ferocity that had blown outside not ten minutes before. If anything, it looked like it belonged at the edge of a sandy shore, not perched upon a cliff top.

"We've never had snow here before," Finnick told her, closing the door behind them, carefully unbuttoning his coat.

"Never?" Katniss asked, surprised. The way the land surrounding their home was blanketed in white begged to differ.

"No." He draped his coat over his arm. "It gets cold, but it never snows in District 4….I've never seen a blizzard like that, and I'm not experienced in that kind of environment. So I'm surprised I found you all the way out here."

"So am I," Katniss replied. Her frozen fingers fumbled with the buttons on her own jacket, until his reached out and began to undo them for her. She looked up at him gratefully, and shrugged out of it as he pulled it from her shoulders. "If you're not used to that kind of weather, what _were_ you doing out there?"

He paused, confusion marring his forehead. "I'm not entirely sure," he replied honestly. He shrugged, tossing her jacket over his arm. "I simply felt like a walk. But it's a good thing that I was."

"Yes it is," Katniss murmured, bending to slip her sodden shoes from her feet. Placing them by the door, she looked at Finnick expectantly.

"Head through there," he told her, pointing ahead to a room tucked off the end of a long corridor that emanated warmth and light. "I'll hang our jackets up and be with you in a moment."

She stepped carefully, her feet sinking into the plush rug that lined the centre of the hallway, continuing to make her way along until the passage opened up into a large room framed on two sides with windows that faced the endless ocean. She smiled in grateful relief at the blazing fireplace that dominated the wall at the end of the room, flames crackling, sparking, snapping, bathing the room in a golden glow.

Katniss sank to her knees in front of it, closing her eyes as the heat from the fire surrounded her, warming cold flesh and aching bones. She sighed softly, tugging the worn leather gloves from her hands and waving her fingers carefully in front of the flames. She heard footsteps move into the room, already knew not to be startled when the person spoke.

"Fire suits you," Finnick announced, and she turned slowly, a faint smile on her face. And was surprised to see the small, diminutive woman beside him, long dark hair waving over her shoulders. The woman padded over to her, and Katniss noticed her tread was light, almost silent. If she didn't seem so ethereal, so delicate, Katniss thought, this petite woman would certainly make one hell of a hunter. Kneeling beside her, she held out a hand.

"Hello Katniss, I'm Annie," she said softly. "Are you ok? Do you have any injuries?"

Katniss shook her head. "I'm fine. Just cold. And tired."

Annie glanced up at Finnick, a silent conversation passing between them. "I'm glad you're uninjured. Finnick will show you to a room for you to stay in, and I'll start our evening meal. You can join us, make use of our hospitality and stay with us this evening, while you tell us how you found yourself this far from your home."

Katniss shrugged, confusion crossing her face. "If I knew, I would tell you. But I'll do my best. You don't have to let me stay, I'm more than fine continuing on my way. In fact, I really sh-"

"Nonsense," Annie said forcefully, and out of the corner of her eye, Katniss saw Finnick smirk. "You will stay the night. That blizzard may return, and you don't need to be out in it again so soon. Especially when it is so foreign to these parts." She stood, reached out a hand to Katniss, waited for her to take it. "Now, up. Finnick will direct you through. Go." With a gentle push towards Finnick, Annie turned on her heel, moving through an archway in the opposite direction from the entry hall. Finnick grinned, and gestured back down the hall from which Katniss came.

"I'll show you to your room," he told her, not waiting for her before he turned. She hurried to catch up, curling her toes into the rug as she went. "We don't get many visitors here, so when we do, Annie likes to make sure they're comfortable."

"How long have you lived out here?"

"Too long to remember, but also not long enough," he said simply. "We prefer it to anywhere else."

"Why is that? Why _do _you live out here?" Katniss asked as they made their way up a wide staircase the colour of honey. She caught a fault in Finnick's step, studied the way he quickly bit his lip, then cleared his face of the emotion that had lingered there so briefly.

"Annie prefers to be away from most of society," he said simply, not offering any more information. He directed her into a room that was twice the size of hers back home in 12, the spread the colour of autumn leaves, the wispy curtains opened wide to the gently falling snow on the other side of the glass. He left the room silently, and she sank down to the edge of the bed.

And wondered how on earth she had gotten here.

* * *

Over a meal of a thick, hearty soup, and bread as fragrant and dense as anything she had ever eaten from Mellark's, Katniss shared her journey, told of her trek across the land. Unable to stop staring at her in rapt enthusiasm, Annie and Finnick hung on every word. And as Katniss came to the present time, Annie laid down her napkin and told her, with little fanfare, that the unexpected blizzard had led her here. That it had carried her far across the land, further than she could ever have dreamed to pass, and brought her here, to them, for them to help her on her way. On her quest to find Peeta.

Katniss caught Finnick's loving but resigned glance at the woman to his left, as he took her hand delicately in his. But Annie shook it off, telling him not to misunderstand her, not to think it was another of her thoughts that flitted through her brain with little or no rhyme or reason. And told him, emphatically, that she knew she was right.

She studied them, watched the way they interacted, how they played off of each other, how the simple touch on the back of a hand could say so much between them. Annie was so waiflike and elegant, Finnick strong and charming. They were like the princes and princesses Prim liked to hear stories of, the old fashioned hierarchical roles that had disappeared along with the dark days.

After much discussion, the Prince and Princess by the sea – as Katniss now thought of them fondly – demanded she take their old fashioned sled to help her on her way. Other than in the last month, they had never had cause to use it anyway - it had simply sat in the big wooden building behind their home, gathering dust and becoming a relic. The sled would ease the burden on her body, and make travelling over the wintry terrain that much easier. And though instinctively she wanted to say no, she didn't want to have to rely on their assistance, she knew it was the right thing to do. For the sooner she found Peeta, the better.

She retired to the room they had prepared for her, belly full of comforting food and spiced cider and a warmth in her heart that had been missing for weeks. Stripping down to her underclothes and snuggling under a comforter that was thick and fluffy and felt like a cloud, she stared into the fire that Finnick had built, and banked, in the small fireplace. Sleep came swift for a body and mind exhausted.

_She dreamt of summer days, of feet dangling in the cool water of the lake, of plunging her hands into its depths and farming it of her namesake to add to their dinner. She dreamt of spring mornings, where the meadow was alive in colour and Peeta and his brothers would wrestle playfully in the long grass, while she and Madge and Prim would pretend to pay them attention. She dreamt of autumn evenings, where the leaves would fall from the trees, and cover the ground like a patchwork quilt. _

_And she dreamt of a cool winter afternoon, when Peeta Mellark had placed a simple kiss on her cheek and her pulse had quickened and danced. And she ached for more._

* * *

She awoke slowly, her body hesitant to remove itself from comfort she had long been missing. But she stretched, first one leg, then the other, her back arching, before her eyes fluttered open.

The first thing she noted was the fire still crackling away merrily. The other was Annie, curled up in an overstuffed chair the colour of pumpkins. Their eyes locked, and Annie smiled gently, brushing the loose wavy locks that had found their way in front of her eye.

"I hope I didn't wake you," she began. Katniss shook her head, tugging the quilt up to her chin, slightly confused by the woman's presence in the room. "Good. I wanted to speak with you before Finnick woke." She glanced out the window, smiling absently to herself. "He takes full advantage of the winter here. Some days he does not awake til late morning, while I've already been up for hours. He does not take well to the cold, my Finn. It has been especially hard for him this last month, with the snow. It is not something he is used to, nor does he favour it."

They sat in silence for a moment, Katniss warily eyeing Annie, who continued to stare out the window. Then she suddenly snapped to attention, her bright green eyes wide and attentive as she turned back to Katniss.

"I've seen your boy," she said matter of factly, and Katniss' jaw dropped.

"What?! Why didn't you say anything before? Where is he?" Katniss sat up, the quilt pooling around her waist.

"He is long gone from here," Annie replied gently. "I saw him close to three weeks ago, like a star that shot by so fast it was almost a memory before I realised it had happened. I...I didn't tell you last night because you needed to rest before you continued on. And I sensed if I had told you, you would have left us immediately."

Katniss pulled herself out of her bed, yanking on the shirt she vaguely realised had been freshly laundered. "Tell me where he went. Who he was with, tell me where I need to go."

Annie shook her head, her fingers knotting through the ends of her hair. "I don't know where they are going. All I know is that he was heading northwest with a woman I recognise; in tales from when I was a child, she was called the Queen of the Snow."

And despite the fact Katniss was already sure of the fact, hearing Annie speak the words shocked her; she drew a sharp intake of breath. "You believe that story to be true as well."

"Yes," Annie replied simply. "Our world is bleak and dark, and her influence on Panem is but a trait she inherited from her forefathers. I have no choice but to believe her existence. And now, after seeing her with your love-" she broke off as Katniss shifted awkwardly on the bed at her words -"it is without doubt. You must continue to follow the tracks; they will lead you to where you need to go. And our sled will help you get there so much quicker."

She rose, added another log to the fire from the wicker basket that sat beside it, then smiled back at Katniss. "But breakfast first, before you leave. You must keep up your strength if you wish to win him back."

And before Katniss could ask for clarification on her words, Annie had floated from the room, leaving Katniss alone with her thoughts.

Morning came and went, and Katniss soon found herself on her way in the sled belonging to Finnick and Annie, clothed in a long, heavy coat they had insisted she take. The sled moved swiftly through the trees, guided by her hands and a silent motor that propelled her forward at speeds she had never known. Her heart pounded in anticipation, with the knowledge that the faster she moved, the sooner she could find Peeta.

Days, then weeks, passed and she continued to move northwest, in the direction Annie had guided her in, gliding over forgotten lakes and barren plains where there was not a tree in sight, just an expanse of plain, white snow. But woodlands appeared again, for which she was grateful, as their cover gave her a sense of security from the potential of prying eyes and mysterious strangers.

Though it did not last long.

_They came up like a mirage, their white suits and helmets almost completely invisible in the snow covered land. They aimed weapons at her, warned her they would use deadly force if necessary, for she should not be trespassing on land that did not belong to her. Any land outside of a district was the property of the President, and for her insolence, she would be sent to the Capitol._

_She fought against their restraints, tried to reason with them, to provide explanation to them for her actions. But if they listened, they did not take heed, as they marched her to their vessel, a large machine that hovered above the ground that dipped slightly in the wind._

_Hands bound, mouth gagged, she watched as the needle one of her captors held pierced the soft skin of her forearm. And her last thought before the world fell from around her was of failing Peeta._


	4. The Icy Fortress

_The hovercraft carried Katniss, unconscious and unwilling, over the wintry landscape below. The craft hummed softly, like a swarm of well-behaved bees, well-oiled and maintained by the people who served on board._

_In her slumbered state, the white-suited men ignored her and left her unsupervised in a small, grey windowless room. There was nowhere for her to go, and therefore they thought they had nought to worry about._

_They did not take into account the woman full of sass and a sharp tongue._

A faint whirr buzzed in her ears, drowning out the silence she'd been happily ensconced in. She tried to shake her head to remove the sound, but it refused to abate, continued on in its monotonous drone. Frustrated, she tried to raise her head. Was she awake? Was she asleep? Was she-

"Psst! Pssst! Wake up!" The voice broke through the fog that shifted through her, and Katniss struggled to open one eye, then the next. Heaviness threatened to close them again, but she fought against it. And slowly, the image of a woman swam in front of her.

Squinting against the lights that were embedded in the floor, shooting their bright light up towards the ceiling, she focused on the woman, whose short whiskey coloured hair was twisted about her head, her eyes narrowed. She rested her elbows on her knees as she leant forward in her seat, a thin trail of blood marring her chin.

"About time you woke up," the woman sighed. "I've been waiting for you."

"Huh?" Katniss' head was still groggy, from whatever they'd injected her-

_They._

Suddenly, vitally alert, she sat up straight, shaking her head. Glancing around the small cabin, she noted the stark silver floors studded with lights, windowless walls – and a long bench along each side, shackles suited to both arms and legs placed at regular intervals. The only other person in the room was the sharp-tongued brunette directly across from her.

"Where are we? Are we still on their transport? How long have we been travelling? Who are you?" The words tumbled out through a mouth still numb from toxicity, her words slightly garbled.

The woman snorted, and began to relay their journey in a tone full of barely veiled disdain. Of how they'd been travelling at high speed for two hours, that they still hadn't arrived at the Capitol. How the men had dragged her – and her old fashioned sled – into the craft, mocking her for being so blatant in her disregard of Capitol rules. In a snide voice, she told Katniss she had to agree with them. Anyone brainless enough to be gallivanting around on a sled deserved to be caught.

"I have my reasons," Katniss snapped. "It wasn't a joyride."

The woman waved a hand dismissively. "Regardless, they've got you now."

"Well they've got you too," Katniss pointed out. "What do they have you for? Were you out on Capitol land as well?" She itched to rub at wrists rubbed raw from her bonds, but hard as she tried, she couldn't twist her fingers back far enough.

"No," the woman replied with a smirk. "I just like playing with my axe a little too much."

Katniss glanced at her warily, then looked back down at her wrists, mulling over everything the woman had told her. Two hours of travel meant she was either closer to Peeta or further away - and as she had no idea where Peeta had been taken to, she couldn't be sure.

"I can't stay in the Capitol," Katniss announced bluntly. "I have to find someone and I know I won't find them there." The look she received was a curious one, through considered eyes and a raised eyebrow.

"Tell me."

"Tell me your name first," Katniss demanded in return.

"Johanna. Now tell me."

So, much similar to the story she shared with Finnick and Annie, Katniss told Johanna of her trek, of Peeta being taken by the hands of a woman born of snow, of her determination to bring him home. And the more Katniss shared, the more Johanna's lips firmed.

"I know of whom you speak," she said with a shake of her head. "I know the stories of her as well as you do."

"They're not just _stories_," Katniss replied emphatically.

Johanna rolled her eyes. "I know that. I know of someone who has seen her, spoken with this woman. But he wasn't to her liking, and managed to stay free of her."

Katniss tried to sit up straighter, her eyes widening. "Who? How? Can you take me to him?"

"How am I supposed to do that?" Johanna stared at her balefully. "We're both a little tied up right now."

"I'm not ignorant. I know was well as you do that your bonds aren't secured. How did you manage that?" Katniss glanced purposefully at the shackles banded around Johanna's wrists and ankles, and the woman smiled.

"Well. Seems you're not as brainless as I thought." She lifted her hand, wiggling her fingers almost sarcastically, before reaching into her pocket and producing a slim, silver object. "I've learned to multi-task. But I'll help you when we arrive in the Capitol. This isn't the first time they've tried to take me and keep me there. It won't be the last. Just do whatever I tell you to do, and we'll be fine."

Katniss didn't take well to being ordered what to do, but in this instance, she knew – just like she knew with Finnick and Annie – that she needed this woman's assistance. With a simple nod of agreement, Johanna stood from her bench and knelt before Katniss, using the small silver object to wiggle and nudge the shackles apart, until she was free of them. And looping them back loosely around her wrists and ankles to give the appearance of them being secure, she waited.

It was not long before the hovercraft docked in the Capitol. And though Katniss wasn't entirely sure how it happened, or how it occurred, she soon found herself in hot pursuit of Johanna, the two Peacekeepers who had come to retrieve them unconscious on the floor of their cell.

They ran from the airfield, down snaking streets paved with silver, past houses edged with fuchsia trim. They ducked behind green hedges shaped like diamonds, flattened themselves against lime green walls at the sound of pounding feet.

They ran, and ran, through the city centre until the streets became a little wider and the townhouses larger. Until Johanna cut abruptly down an alleyway and slipped through a gate almost obscured by bushes with leaves the colour of plums. Katniss watched as her companion threw herself on the small, perfectly manicured square patch of grass, closing her eyes.

"Here you go," she muttered, pursing her lips and breathing through them swiftly.

Katniss doubled over, hands on knees, panting heavily. Almost two months of consistent travel had worn on her body. She was tired. "How do you...know...your way around...here so well?" She asked between deep breaths.

Johanna shrugged. "I already told you. I've been here a few times before." If there was any more to her story Katniss didn't push it, nor did she wish to. Some things, she knew, were better left unsaid.

"And how do you know this person?"

"He's a little bit of a rebel like me."

Katniss straightened, studying the sleek, simple townhouse that backed onto the garden. As opposed to its candy cotton neighbours, this home stood out in its simplicity, with its pale yellow render and deeper gold trim. It shone like a beacon in amongst a city of falseness and showmanship.

She watched as the wide, gleaming wooden door slowly opened and a man stood framed within it. "Hello Johanna," he said simply. "It's been awhile."

"Well, I was being good for once," she winked, yanking on Katniss' hand and pulling her towards the door. She studied the man, and he studied her back. His warm mocha skin was set off by kind eyes the colour of chocolate, rimmed in a thin line of shimmery gold that seemed to make them more friendly. His close cropped hair was dark; his body slim in a simple - and decidedly non-Capitol - outfit of black trousers and shirt. Katniss liked him immediately.

"And who is this?" he asked softly.

"This is Katniss. She needs to find a little friend of yours," she replied blithely, and stepped into his home. He held out a hand to Katniss, waiting until she placed hers in his before covering their joined hands with his free one.

"Welcome Katniss, I am Cinna. I hope I'm able to assist you find who you need to."

Katniss nodded. "So do I."

* * *

The bone china cup was warm in her hands, the plush seat comforting beneath her. Her time with Annie and Finnick felt like light years ago, and these simple luxuries were more than welcome.

She finished her story, Cinna's only reaction a slight lifting of his eyebrow. "Well," he started. "I am certainly sorry for your friend." Katniss nodded, waiting for him to continue. "This woman is not an easy one to be free of."

"How did you…..how are you not with her right now?" Katniss was unsure how to phrase the question when she didn't fully understand what she was asking about.

He placed his own cup on the streamlined table that sat between them, clasping his hands between his knees. Johanna leant back on her seat beside Katniss, tucking her legs up and crossing them in front of her. "You have heard the stories of this Queen of the Snow, I am sure. How she likes to surround herself with those like her – cold of heart and frozen in disposition. Some people are born that way. Others….it suddenly appears. One day it will creep up on them, overtake their mind and body. That is what it sounds like is what happened to your friend." He paused, wanting to take his time. "I am not like many here in the Capitol. Johanna can attest to that. I have very little in the way of…agreement in their ways, in their policies. But many citizens in the Capitol are suited to the ways of the Queen, and hence, her yearly quests quite often end here."

"But not this year," Katniss interjected.

"No. Not this year," he said gently. "A number of years ago, she visited here, and spoke with me, tried to convince me to go with her. But my heart is not frozen, and her wiles did not have the effect on me that she desired. In a fit of anger, she ranted and raved – and opened her mind to me. In that small glimpse, I knew where she lived, where she resided. And it was such an empty and desolate and cold place, I shuddered at the thought of anyone being there with her, and refused to think of it again. She fled not long after, and two days later rumours swirled that Seneca Crane, a good friend of the President, had disappeared. And I knew she had taken him, for the influence of the President had long blackened his heart."

"I'd forgotten how charming you said she was," Johanna drawled. Cinna shot her a look that said more than words could, and she rolled her eyes. "Sorry, sorry, please continue with your little conversation."

"What does she do with them when she takes them?" Katniss asked. "How many people does she have in this fortress?"

Cinna shook his head sadly. "I don't know. And I don't think I want to know. She might keep them forever, she might…dispose of them. Some things, ultimately, are better left unknown." He looked at Katniss, his hands held out in apology. "I'm sorry I cannot take you there. But I can tell you where to go, how to find her. It won't be easy, as she has hidden her frozen palace from prying eyes for many years. But you'll get there. You're determined."

"If I get there, how will I save him? Surely she is much more powerful than me, if she can convince people to simply go with her with a matter of a few words."

Cinna reached out, took the cup from her and handed it to Johanna. He warmed Katniss' hands with his own, his touch gentle and comforting.

"I'm sure you are convincing in your own way. But this much, I know. Only you can save your friend, Katniss. The fire in your belly and your heart to save him is magnificent. But the glimpse she gave me assured me of one thing. It is only your pure heart that will be able to save him. There is no-one and nothing else." Katniss frowned at his words, not altogether comfortable with his way of describing her. He sensed this, and smiled. "There is nothing to be ashamed of being called pure, Katniss. And it has more meanings than you could ever understand. But all I can tell you is what I have. I can give you directions, show you the way to go. But if _you_ can't save Peeta, no-one can."

She shrugged. "How will I get there? I have no sled."

Cinna smiled softly. "You have to go by foot, Katniss. There is no other way. It will take you time, but you will find it. I promise."

"She's going to have to be a little more subtle about it this time," Johanna interjected bluntly.

"Oh, she will," Cinna said with confidence. "She's determined and not afraid to do what she feels she needs to." He turned his attention back to Katniss and nodded his head firmly. "I'm not a betting man Katniss, but if I was, I'd bet on you."

* * *

Katniss remembered Cinna's words as she trudged through the snow covered woods. It made her determined, made her stronger in her resolve. She knew she could do this, knew she would find Peeta. _She had to._

Cinna had given her a clear set of directions, and had swiftly escorted her to the edge of the Capitol. She and Johanna had made their way into the woods quickly, venturing as far as they could together before Johanna headed for District 7 and Katniss for District 1, where Cinna had told her she would find the home of the Queen. Even as the days became colder, and the nights longer, and the outlook bleaker, she didn't let her intentions waver. And as the days wore on and the world became whiter and starker and more desolate, she knew she was getting closer.

She wrapped Annie's coat around her tighter, freezing tendrils of wind sneaking in to any gap it could find. Her shoes, worn from months of walking, were soaked through, her feet turning into blocks of ice. Her mind began to wander, thinking of her family, wondering what they were doing, whether they missed her, whether they had sent out a search party for _her_ after she had been gone for so long. She wondered if Mr Mellark was still in his bakery, grieving over his son, or whether her journey had given him some hope, given him something to wake up for every day.

She wondered what Peeta was doing, whether he was hurt, or in pain. If a hint of concern entered her mind that he was _happy_ where he was, she ignored it. Peeta belonged in 12, not here. Not in this frozen wilderness.

Shelter was scarce, her body shivering and freezing in the open air every evening. And as her body ached and exhaustion threatened to claim her, concern filled her that she would be too late to find him. That it would be too late for her and _she_ would cease to exist.

With these thoughts in her mind, Katniss moved around a tree, scraping her sleeve against the rough bark. And her eyes widened and mouth dropped open as a veil seemed to part in front of her, opening to reveal a valley spread out far and wide – and displaying an icy fortress that rose into the sky proudly. It was mysterious and foreboding and magnificent all at once, with its wide and tall turrets, encased within a frozen wall of ice. It was like nothing she had ever seen before, not even the glimpses of the Capitol she would see during their scheduled programming every week. She knew Peeta would have the words to describe it, knew he would be able to tell her what every single shade of colour was called. To her it was white upon white upon grey upon silver. But _he _would have made it come alive with his words.

She studied her prey, for that is what the fortress was to this hunter. She scanned over the height of the walls that surrounded the main structure, tried to determine where the most fragile place to start would be. And realised there was no way to enter other than the front entrance, the tall, imposing gates barring her way.

Footsteps light, and slipping and weaving behind trees, Katniss made her way towards the gates. As she got closer, she was surprised to find that they were fashioned from silvery, interlocking snowflakes, in an intricate pattern that left no room to slide through, not even her arm up to her elbow. She pushed on them, though she knew they would hardly swing open at just her touch. They did not move an inch.

The gates remained closed, no matter how hard she pushed, pulled or yanked on them. She swore the snowflakes were glaring at her from their intertwined positions within the framework of the gate, yet who had ever heard of a gate with eyes, let alone a _snowflake_ with eyes?

She glanced at the side of the long gates, looking for a hinge, although if there were any, they were carefully hidden. The elaborate icy panels butted up against the start of the high frozen wall that circled the fortress, closing it off from the outside world.

Wrapping her fingers around the edges of the snowflakes at her eye level, she yanked hard, again and again, until her arms ached and her fingers burned from the cold that seeped through her gloves. And, defeated, she slumped to the ground, wrapping her arms around her thighs and resting her head despondently on her knees.

This was it. After all she'd gone through, how far and long she'd travelled, she had been stopped by a gate.

_A gate._

Pulling her head up and propping her chin in her hands, she stared across the vast valley in front of her, winter stubbornly refusing to yield to spring. And, almost absently, began to sing.

_The gates, frozen by ice and the dictation of the Queen it served, began to tremble and shiver behind Katniss, for the snowflakes that guarded the fortress were no match for the clear and open beauty of a pure voice. It was their one weakness, the one sound, which would overrule the voice of their mistress. And like the birds that stopped to listen to her, here the snowflakes cowered and acquiesced to her voice._

With an almost silent and imperceptible swing, the gates opened at her back. She turned, eyes wide, and scrambled to her feet, hurrying through them before they swung closed again. She glanced at them for a second, just one second, and the snowflakes fluttered and shifted in fear, the gate widening just a little bit more, almost as if to move further away from her.

She moved about the lowest level of the fortress, studying the wide halls that spread out in front of her, the gleaming staircases and glittering chandeliers that hung from ceilings fifty feet high. The floor sparkled like diamonds beneath her feet, but it did not matter, because its icy beauty was lost on her. There was nothing in this place that filled her with wonder, for she had never encountered such a place so cold, unforgiving and lifeless.

As she stepped through an archway, she found herself at the edge of a lake, as wide and smooth as glass. In its centre was a blur of colour, a single speck of brightness against the whitewashed world. Creeping along the edge of the wall beside the arch, she ignored the steady dripping of icy water that slid down the cold surface, ignored the thin layer of snow at her feet slowly turning to slush. She was focused on one thing and one thing only – determining what this coloured aberration was. And finally, her mouth dropped open as she came close enough to see.

_There, in the middle of a frozen lake in the centre of the fortress, sat Peeta, staring blankly at a canvas placed delicately on an easel, paints resting in a tray and a paintbrush loosely held in his limp hand. _

Her heart leapt, but she was hesitant to surprise him, remembering the last time they'd seen each other, and how tightly he'd yanked and pulled and tugged at the length of her braid, fury on his face. So she moved towards him hesitantly, her feet taking slow, measured steps across the ice. If he saw her, if he heard her, he didn't turn, didn't acknowledge her – he just kept staring at the white blank page in front of him. She took the final steps, moving so that she stood directly behind the easel placed on the ice. And shivered when his head flew up, icy eyes locking to hers.

"What do you want?" he hissed, face and eyes blank of recognition.

"Peeta, it's me. Katniss. Remember?" Her voice was low, pleading.

"I don't know who you are." His words were simple, but they stung. _This still wasn't the Peeta she had loved for longer than she even realised_.

"We're….we're friends, Peeta," she faltered, willing back the tears that threatened to overspill.

"I _have _no friends. Did _she_ send you here? To keep an eye on me while she's away, finding others like me?" he spat, lip curled, the anger lacing his words hard to ignore.

"No! No, I came to take you home," she whispered.

"This is home," Peeta laughed harshly, waving an arm around. "This lake is my home."

"No it's not!" She replied forcefully. "Your home is in District 12, with your father, and Aaran and Ethen, and…."

"And what?" He demanded. "I don't know any of those people you're speaking about, and I definitely don't know _you_." He folded his arms across his chest, the brush falling to the ground, fingers clutching angrily at his biceps.

Katniss swallowed heavily, wondering what she could say, what she could do, to remind him. She couldn't leave him here, not now that she'd found him. Couldn't bear the thought of him being in this fortress void of colour and happiness and _life_ – all things Peeta deserved – for a minute longer. And then she realised what he'd said - _Did she send you here? To keep an eye on me while she's away…._

The woman wasn't even here.

She swiped her hand forcefully in front of her, the canvas and easel tumbling to the ground. She stepped towards him, ignoring the clenching of his jaw, the darkening of his eyes, the way his hands dropped to his sides, tightly fisted. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her lips to his, sliding her hands up and over his shoulders, drawing him into her. He was cold, so cold, and she pressed her body tightly to his, trying to give him her warmth, trying to bring him back to her. She could feel him fighting her, struggling to pull away, but she held steadfastly, refusing to let him go. And as her lips moved against his, as her tongue traced the seam of his lips, as she shifted her head to change the angle of her kiss, she felt it. The soft touch of a tear landing on her cheek.

It wasn't hers.

_As the warmth of her lips melded to his, as the heat of her body seeped into his bones, tears gathered in his eyes. And as the tears gathered, and fell, with it tumbled the speck of shimmering glass. His heart, which had begun to beat, hard and fast and strong, dislodged the remaining speck- it too fell with his tears. And with that, he remembered her._

She pulled away as he stilled in her embrace, her eyes locking onto his, and she studied the red rims, the blue that seemed to warm in front of her very eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks, fell onto his collar, dripped to the surface of the ice below. She could feel the way his heart thudded against her chest – _realised it hadn't been beating, not properly, when she'd first pulled him to her_ – the way his fingers had moved around to clutch desperately at the back of her coat.

"Katniss?" he whispered, his voice breaking and cracking. She nodded, unable to find the words that had stuck in her throat. "What happened? Where am I? What are we doing here?"

"I-I don't exactly know what happened," she stammered. "But I've been looking for you for so long. I knew you weren't dead, that I had to find you."

"Dead?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. She nodded.

"We…..we had your funeral," Katniss whispered. "They found your jacket by the river. They thought you'd drowned."

She watched him silently as he swallowed heavily, as the weight of her words fell upon him. He closed his eyes, rubbing his hand across his chest as if it ached, but she let him be, didn't move to touch him again. Then he opened his eyes, reaching up and drawing his palm lightly down the length of her braid, like he had done so many times before. And as his fingers reached the end, tugging lightly, he froze, stepping away from her. His eyes widened.

"You shouldn't be near me, Katniss," he whispered. "I hurt you too much."

"What?" She reached out for him, but he shrugged her off.

"I remember. I hurt you, I made you cry. I'm so sorry, and I didn't mean to, and I'd never want to, not in a million years, but….you need to stay away from me."

"No," Katniss shook her head. "No, Peeta, you're fine. You're not like it any more…."

Peeta took a deep breath, his eyes wild, and he glanced away from her, over at the fortress that seemed to shimmer in front of them. The ice was slick beneath their feet, not staid and strong like before, and he leant over and picked up the canvas, paints and easel, moving towards the edge of the lake. Placing them on the sturdier ground, he turned back to Katniss, his composure back in place again.

"You know I was never dead, Katniss," he started, and she nodded in agreement, but said nothing. "Those few weeks before I….left, something was wrong with me. Something had taken over my body, my heart, my mind, just everything about me. And when I saw _her_, I was tempted. I couldn't think of anything but going with her. And then…it was like none of you existed. I forgot about all of you. I forgot everything. I even forgot how awful I was to you that day."

Katniss nodded. "I know. I knew something was wrong. I knew you'd never hurt me like that," she told him. "But don't apologise. Itwasn't you. Whatever it was, it's gone now."

"How do you know? It could happen again, it could come back at any-"

She cut him off, shaking her head. "Don't, Peeta. Don't worry about that. We'll make sure. And if it does…. We'll overcome it." _She was sure of it. Hearing Cinna's words, remembering what he said, that only she could save him, made her confident they could._

He opened his mouth to protest then stopped himself. He scrubbed his hands across his face, through his hair, making it stand on end. Pink rose on his cheeks and he breathed in deeply through his nose, nodding absently to himself. "Katniss, I need to tell you something. The day….The day when I knew things were wrong, when I knew things weren't right, I was coming home to you. I was coming home to watch the sunset with you. And then afterwards I was going to tell you I loved you." Her eyes widened, and he pushed on, didn't want her to turn him away. "And I still do, Katniss, I never stopped, even when I couldn't remember. I will_ never _stop. But I promise I will always be your friend. And I promise I'll plant you some new primroses. And-"

She threw herself at him, catching him off guard as they fell onto the snow, Peeta blocking their fall. Her lips found his, tongues tangling, teeth bumping, breath skittering across skin. His arms banded around her tightly, one across her shoulder blades, one around her waist, fingers digging desperately into her jacket. Hers cupped his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the hollow of his throat as she refused to move her lips from his. And she knew, as she felt something rise in her that she'd never felt before, that she wouldn't be able to let him go again. Katniss pulled back, breath ragged and panting. Peeta stared at her, in shock, in surprise, she didn't know.

"Katniss?" he said jerkily. She nodded, not willing to risk her voice right now. She didn't know what to say. "You….you love me. Real or not real?"

And finally, she knew what to say.

"Real."

_As Katniss Everdeen spoke the word, the winter that had lingered, had covered this forgotten piece of land for longer than one could imagine, began to melt and disappear. And as the snow melted, and ice turned to water, the land around them became green, a vital green that was almost so bright it hurt Katniss' eyes. Dandelions sprung up around them, a sign of spring, of life. Of love. It spread, circling around them, the frozen pathways melting, the woods slowly becoming alive, shades of green and brown and red and orange, colours that these parts had not seen for many years. And as they kissed again, the sun broke through the clouds, its golden rays twisting and filtering through the trees, bouncing off the fortress that now shimmered like glass, no longer ice._

With a gasp, Peeta pulled away from Katniss, first staring at her, then turning his face to the sun. With a start he pulled himself from underneath her, reaching for the canvas and brush and paints he'd dropped to the ground, as eager as Katniss had ever seen him.

"What…what are you doing?" Katniss asked, watching as he frantically began to swirl colours together across the canvas, mixing and dabbing and testing. He grinned up at her, the grin that was as familiar to her as her own.

"I'm painting the perfect shade of sunlight on fur," he told her, reaching out and touching the edge of the simple, white fur coat Annie had gifted Katniss. "I remember what it is."

And he did.

_So the selfless young man and woman escaped the fortress of the Queen of the Snow. The wails of the icy woman were high and long, heard for miles and full of fury when discovered that her trickery had been overcome. She was, once again, alone in her fortress no longer made of ice, but of glass. _

_But it would not last long, for her cold heart would not let her land or her palace betray her. Winter would, inevitably, sneak its way back in, the temporary spring would disappear. And she would soon venture across the land again, looking for a frozen heart to share her time._

_They returned home to a parade only suitable for victors, though they wished for nothing but to be alone. And as they finally, eventually, returned to their homes, they went to the first place they knew they needed to go._

_As the sun dipped below the mountains, setting the sky on fire before it plunged into darkness, they bridged the gap between their windows. And kissed._

* * *

**A/N - Thank you for your follows, favourites and reviews, I appreciate them a lot. This story is completely different to anything I've written before, so I was definitely putting myself out there with it. :)  
**


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